More
by Prime627
Summary: Windblade is a warrior on Cybertron, or at least she thinks so. The mechs are rude, and the femmes just chalk it all up to "they're just mechs", but Aleta has told Windblade before that she was better than the mechs said...but how will she prove that to her comrades?
1. Chapter 1

Windblade stayed behind when Optimus led his warriors in search of the AllSpark. She was too small, and she didn't have the experience Optimus Prime was looking for. So she had to wave goodbye, and she stayed outside until she couldn't see the ship anymore.

That was when she gave herself five seconds to forget, to focus on the task at servo: Surviving and destroying the Decepticons.

 **ooo**

She hugged the blaster to her stomach as she crouched beside Cliffjumper, who talked her left audio off. She was surprised that she could even hear out of it. Windblade got up to peek over the debris at the Seekers that had not chased the Autobots into the stars.

Debris, Tsunami, and Hurricane shuffled around the wreackage of the Autobot warehouse that had been blown up weeks ago. It seemed that the Decepticons were also low on supplies if they were trying to find and use damaged equipment.

Windblade exhaled gently, propping her blaster up and putting the pretty one in her crosshairs: Tsunami, who was light-blue, dark-blue, and white. His optics were purple.

She pulled the trigger, but Debris' sharp optics caught sight of her and he pushed his brother out of the way, the Seekers scattering. They took flight and Windblade growled, throwing the cannon down and whirling on Cliffjumper, who was still talking.

"Why didn't you help?"

Cliffjumper stopped midsentence and watched her, his optics wide. "Wait..." He got up and looked around. "You actually shot at a Decepticon?"

"Yes!"  
"Who?"

"The Seeker brothers Debris, Tsunami, and Hurricane! Primus, Cliffjumper...how many times were you dropped on your helm."

"Twice, once on accident and again for good measure." He scratched his helm. "Did you miss?"

"Obviously." Windblade looked down at the cannon, lifting it again and slowly putting it away. Then she sat down to sharpen her blade. She held it so her reflection could be seen, her pale white faceplates scaring her for a moment. Her face was covered in scars from her fights, as was the rest of her from living with mechs and training with them. She set her blade down across her lap and she sighed, laying her helm back. "Cliff...what are you doing?"

Cliffjumper was pacing. "I don't like sitting."

"If you don't sit, the Decepticons will see you and never come back." Windblade opened a pouch of Energon and she threw it over the pile of debris she was hiding behind. The contents of the pouch spilled out and glowed dimly, but it was enough to to bring in hungry Decepticons.

Sure enough, before Windblade could get comfortable, Decepticon Ravage shot out and tried to snatch up the cubes. A glowing visor waited in the shadows. No doubt it was Soundwave. Windblade jumped up and charged Ravage, throwing her blade down at her leg. The blade sunk through metal and into Cybertron's plate.

Ravage cried for her master to come rescue her, but Soundwave made a soft sound and moved away, Laserbeak's gentle chirps fading into the growing mist. Windblade looked down at her catch, then tapped her comm.

"Aleta, I have a present."

Cliffjumper walked up from their hiding place and he watched Ravage cry on the ground. "You did this?"

Windblade puffed up with pride. She waited for a compliment, a praise, and instead she got a verbal slap in the face.

"But you're just a femme. A baby-dropper. You know, a breeder. Yeah." He smiled then, and Windblade felt disgusted.

"I'm more than the average femme," she snapped.

 **It was supposed to be a songfic about Arcee, but then I found a cool picture of Windblade and I thought about how she was before Primus, pre-RiD. And so "More" was made! Hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

In the underground Autobot base, Windblade sat in the RecRoom with a cube in her servos. The femmes were yak-yak-yakking on and on, but Windblade hardly paid attention. That was until one of them produced a microbuffer. Then the femmes went berserk, begging to be polished and buffered. Windblade watched with a raised optic ridge, but mechs were turning around in their seats and smirking at the view of the femmes bending and twisting to be polished.

Frustrated, Windblade got to her pedes and stormed to Aleta's office.

The pink femme was sweeping her digits across papers, her optics every so often lifting to the picture she had on her desk of her mechfriend. Windblade stood silently in front of her desk. "Ma'am," she gently prompted.

Aleta jerked as if she had not noticed the femme, and she probably hadn't. "Windblade." She swept the papers into a pile and rested a servo on them. "What can I do for you?"

"The other femmes. They're not true warriors."

"Of course they are, Windblade," Aleta said as she got to her pedes. "What makes you say that? They've gone through all the proper training, passed all the tests..."

Windblade vented heavily. "Have you seen them?" She opened the door and pointed. The femmes were still playing with the buffer and the mechs had gotten a little closer. Aleta patted Windblade's shoulder.

"Windblade, it's rough here. It will get better, you'll see. They're just femmes."

The way she said that made Windblade flinch internally, her brain thundering with thoughts and retorts, but her faceplates remained calm. She nodded slowly, then walked out of the room to her own quarters.

Windblade closed her door and sunk to the floor. What now? She shook her helm and hugged herself, shaking gently. She didn't understand why Aleta didn't stop the femmes from making fools of themselves, but what she did understand was that she was supposed to feed Ravage. Aleta insisted upon it, sticking to "Optimus' thinking" even when he wasn't around. So Windblade got to her pedes and grabbed a cube of Energon to take to the locked up femme.

Ravage was laying on her belly, her helm on her paws. She was watching her guards Gator and Talonstrike. They were talking about her capture, and Windblade felt her spark thrum with pride as she neared.

Gator barked loudly to Talonstrike. He was an ugly mech with a scarred face and a curled lip he had earned from a slap in a fight that split his upper lip open. Because of the lack of medics, Gator's lip healed curled over, which was now a character mark. You could see his denta, just like you would on an alligator. "Cliffjumper said it was an easy catch, that Ravage practically crawled in his lap and mewled," he sneered.

Windblade's spark broke when she heard that sentence. She glanced at Talonstrike, who had helped carry Ravage back. Surely he knew who had really caught Ravage.

"Yeah. But Cliff's all hot air. Anyone could have caught 'er." He looked at Windblade nervously, as if he expected Windblade to open her mouth.

And she did. "You're looking at the one who caught Ravage." Windblade set the cube down on the floor and slid it between the bars towards the cat, who immediately shot to her pedes and drug the cube back into the furthest corner.

Gator barked out a cruel laugh. Talonstrike just closed his optics. "Don't be silly, young femme. You keep telling tales like that and you're going to find yourself in a heap of trouble."

Windblade staggered back. "But I did! Talonstrike was there, he knows!"

Talonstrike threw his servos up. "I just came in to tote the creep back to base. I didn't see who exactly caught her..."

Gator turned to Windblade and nodded. "There ya have it."

Windblade bristled and bared her denta. "I'll talk to Cliffjumper about it..."

 **ooo**

But instead of apologizing, Cliffjumper just smiled. "Windblade, no one would have believed that you were the one who caught Ravage. I'm doing you a favor. You should be thanking me."

Windblade felt numb inside, her processor heating up with curses and snaps, but again, her faceplates were frozen in an expressionless way. She wished so badly to be able to speak her mind...

But instead, she turned her back on the mech and walked away, her servos curling into fists. She slammed her door shut and sunk to her knees, tears spilling out of her optics and down her face. She tilted her helm back, her optics closed, and she began to pray to Primus. She asked him for a purpose, a way to keep going. When she finished, she felt better and she went back to her patrols with renewed patience and a calmed processor.

 **ooo**

Primus heard all, felt all, knew all. So when Windblade first began to sew her prayer together, Primus was focused on her. So very few of his loyal creatures talked to him, and when they did, they had his complete attention.

Windblade's request was simple, and so when she finished praying, Primus eased her stress and soothed her shouting processor. Her spark ached dully now, and Primus was now wrapped up in her request: a purpose. He had already planned her life, and he had predicted her loss early on, before her parts were even in his servos. He tapped his digits together as he thought, and he roused Solus from her moping, pressing the Forge into her servos and urging her to craft. Solus produced a beautiful set of armor in moments and Primus collected them, setting them aside for later use, when he would pull the strings of Windblade's adventurous spark to come and seek him out. Until then, he counted down the days.

 **ooo**

Windblade was patrolling when she felt the pull. About a year had gone by since she felt at a loss, and she had excelled in her ranks. She was now one of the most respected femmes...among the femmes. The mechs barely considered Aleta an equal, but they had to when Alpha Trion visited with the Covenant in his servos, his cloudy optics glittering as he spoke of a "new warrior coming". Every mech now thought that that "new warrior" was him. The femmes were convinced it was a mech. Windblade still had hopes that it was Aleta.

The pull was insistent, hard and unrelenting. It pulled her full attention to the source, the Well, and away from her task. She shook her helm hard, crossing her arms and staring at the Well, but gradually, without her consent, her pedes began to move in the direction of the Well.

It didn't take her long to descend. The stairs were still there, spiralling down into the core of Cybertron. She looked around, not surprised nor curious at the runes and drawings on the walls leading down to Primus. Wait, she thought as her pedesteps slowed. She hadn't thought about Primus for a year. Her optics dimmed and her optic ridges knitted together, but before she could turn back to the surface, her pedes were moving again, faster this time.

The darkness was all around her, but it wasn't scary. Windblade's optics adjusted gradually as her descent wore on, and then, suddenly, there was the faint blue light of something glowing with promise. Primus.

The core was suspended unrealistically in the middle of the large, circular room.

 _Windblade. I have brought you here for your purpose. Rise as a warrior, young femme, and save your brothers._

Windblade's blue optics opened wide and then she was surrounded by large bots she had only dreamed about when she was a little femme. There names came to her as she looked around.

Solus Prime, Vector Prime, Nexus Prime, Amalgamous, Liege Maximo, Quintus, Onyx, Micronus, Alchemist, Prima...they smiled gently down at her, even Liege.

Windblade's vocals refused to make words. She looked back at the core. Blue bands of light connected her to it, and she was lifted.

 _I have chosen you for this task years before I held your parts in my servos. Accept it._

"I do," Windblade finally rasped and she threw her helm back in a silent scream.

 **Kinda short-ish transformation here. I just wanted this** _ **done**_ **XD Hope you enjoy! There will be more next chapter.**


End file.
